


Brave

by Songofpsalms297



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, Schmoop, Smidge Of Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 20:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19117114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songofpsalms297/pseuds/Songofpsalms297
Summary: A different sort of bravery.





	Brave

Nervous fingers twitch at the Andraste's grace behind her left ear. She ran her sweating palms along her pant legs. Tugging her yellow tunic, she straightens her shoulders. She doesn't require, "liquid courage" as Dorian calls it.  
Sighting her target, she breathes deeply, centering herself for the skirmish ahead. She quails for a moment. If she takes this step, regardless of the outcome, everything will change. There is no second chance, no tabula rasa.  
Gathering all her courage even as fear nibbles away at it, Cassandra Pentaghast, Right Hand to Divine Justinia, strides across this battleground to her target, ready to engage.  
Her courage is bolstered somewhat by Varric's smug grin faltering, as their eyes meet.  
He too is nervous. The thought makes her smile. Feeds her courage.  
His eyes sparkle at her. How dare he enjoy her discomfiture! Subconsciously, her hands ball into fists. Ha! The mild alarm in his amber eyes, calms her sudden irritation.  
Nervous agitation sparks through her system once more dousing her anger in ice cold fear. She is tempted to flee this particular battle. To run for the safety of her room. For a moment, she teeters upon the sword's edge of indecision. Steeling herself once more, she marches firmly to her target.  
"Varric," she cringes inwardly at the caustic tone her voice has sharpened to. She sighs and tries again, ignoring her irritation at his cocked eyebrow, she blurts out what she'd intended to say.  
"Would you dance with me?"  
She braces herself, subconsciously preparing for his rejection of her offer. His heart is warmed further by her bravery, it lends mischief to his gaze. Standing stiffly, as he's seen Nevarran merchants do in meetings that are found to be mutually beneficial. He cannot suppress the happiness in his spirit. The corner of his lip turns up of its own volition.  
With a rogue's grace, he snatches her hand, hovers over it, before brushing his lips across her knuckles and replies,  
"I would be honored, my lady."


End file.
